View Topic

It's a blast to the past in the region of Wintreath. In the year c15,000, the first tribes begin moving into the cold, northern region now known as Wintreath. Humans begin to settle and advance their technology. What was once impossible is now slowly becoming possible, but the harsh environment still proves to be a challenge.

Now, tribes emerge all over this northern region, getting ready to explore new lands, deal with the harsh, cold environment, further their technology, and meet other tribes. Only time will tell how these tribes will emerge, whether it be in war or peace...

Jhunesa 1, 78 Buk'ta
       The sun had risen, faintly showing the first showers of light upon the Cobuski Tribe. The people of Cobuskus had peered out of their fur huts for the first time of the new year. Outside, they saw light start to consume to darkness around them. The Cobuskus people put on their worshiping outfits, and circled around the bonfire in the center of tribe. Jhuensday, the day where they worship one of their gods, Jhue, had come. They performed their ceremonial dance, wearing their snow robes, just like the tribe has for the past 25 years or so. They donated various foods, sang their songs, told tales of Jhue and Yhue, just like every year. Palca Cobusk, the current Muisa, and  his son, Ihma Cobusk, the Redji, were leading the worshiping. Their activities were cut short though, by the sound of war cries. Everyone had looked over to the source of the sounds and saw about a dozen invaders wielding wooden clubs. "Invadi Barbus! Invadi Barbus!" (Barbarians are invading! Barbarians are invading!) Palca yelled. The tribesmen gathered up their hunting supplies, and fought off the invaders. Archers shot down the troops as the melee squad had both jabbed and thrown their spears at the enemies, Palca only felt horrible over the spilling of the blood. "How'ca das Heppan? Wi Wurshuped Yhue Yarey!" (How did this happen? We worshiped Yhue yearly!) Palca Exclaimed. "Senthung Ost Jave disterbed da geds!" (Something must have disturbed the gods!) Palca had looked on for answers, while leaving the Redji in charge.

A cold wind blows from the North.

In and of itself, this isn't all that remarkable. The winds that howl through the Line Mountains often hold a fell bite that cuts deep through layers of fur and leather. It is often said that when the howling whisper, not quite the oxymoron it sounds, of the winds build to a crescendo that shakes the very foundations of the world, however, it must be a North wind.

Daieus Ka'lethra turns away from the platform cut into the sheer face of Nal'then, the tallest peak on the course of the Saraneth River, leaving his rockworkers to their dangerous duties. His foreman, Hei'ma Barriush, turns with him and hastily follows, drawing his naifur jacket close around his shoulders. Snow falls heavily, making visibility out over the river nigh impossible.

"I mislike this wind," he calls, voice whipped away and almost inaudible.

Daieus frowns. "So do I, but Governa wishes us to finish these docks as soon as possible."

Hei'ma shakes his head. "And how many must we lose before it is done?"

"That isn't a question I can answer," Daieus replies, hurrying into the hallways hewn from solid rock that would lead them back to the main Sa'Saranethi howe. "Our Fallriders need new berths, and with the melt coming soon we've no choice but to work through the Wind Season if they're to have them."

"At least petition for more safety precautions, Dai. They listen to you; ever since that rockfall last year you've proven your worth to Governa."

Dai sighs, taking first a left then a right as the hallway branches and branches again. "I'll do what I can. Til then, go find the sixth work group, tell them the wind blows from the North. Their jobs are less urgent - maybe we can save lives without pushing our schedule back too far."

"I'll see it done."

The two men clasp arms, and Hei'ma ducks into a lower ceilinged tunnel, pulling a flaming torch from its bracket. Dai presses onwards, his way now lit by lanterns spun from glas fused deep within the howe he now approaches rather than the guttering, flickering torches that mark the passages inwards from the exterior.

The way of the Sa'Saranethi is that of a wanderer, and it belittles their spirit to stay in one place for too long, yet these winters that twist and turn and linger without rhyme or reason have trapped them far out of their usual haunts. Dai knows this, feels as his kinsmen do the urge that runs through their veins to be off again, yet to leave now would be folly. Too many men and women have cast aside their lives here to make these mountains safe for their fellows, but some would see those lives lost for naught.

Tonight is the Governa Meet, a gathering of all men and women who hold position within the tribe held in the cavernous Hall of Homage to Ja'rei Mei'hast. In the tradition that Ja'rei had begun, all would gather to debate their new course.

Dai only hopes that saner heads will prevail, and that his kin will admit defeat - though not in such ignoble terms - in the face of the North winds that had been blowing these last days, seemingly without end.

Solstitium, Anno Conditae Familia 235
Marius Delum scanned the skies above the mainland from his Karve on the waves of Mang Loc, the lake surrounding the nexus of the Dominus' power, the Island of the House, Bayrne.  The day was cold, and he waited, the wind rocking the ship, the mist coming off the great lake refreshing.  It was Solstitium, the day of the solstice, and the Houses of Bellar and Forar were out hunting for the great feast and festival, to begin at sunset, the beginning of the longest night of the year. 

His warriors continued to row his ship, the one specifically reserved for the Patriarch and Dominus of the House of Robin, toward the shore, while he kept his eyes peeled for the smoke signal that would be sent by Bellar and Forar from the shore when they returned from the hunt. 

The wind began to diminish, Mang's water began calming, and on the shore directly in front of the Karve, a small stream of smoke began to snake its way toward the heavens.  The hunt had concluded...

Just below the high peaks of The Mountains of Living Terror, or Cerar be Oya'lahaabar as called by the Ritchtka called them, multiple men on mounts (uliks) hunted. Two men on stocky and heavily furred horses, one man on a creature resembling a reindeer, and the final man on a large moose sized reindeer. As they walked the typical banter began.
"ciryc woor, linibar nari at yustapir Nusujii! (Cold wind, need to move to water road (river) soon!)" said one man on a horse.
"Ele (Uh huh)" said the man on the reindeer, "cin'ca pirun nayc jate jii, nay ciryc at urugaa   (Snow water no good now, too cold to melt).
 
    The man in front, on the largest creature, stopped the line and shushed them. He drew his long recurve bow, and loosed an arrow into the near impervious snowy wind. A loud roar followed by a thud reacted to the shot, and they sped ahead, and found a large tiger with an arrow through the eyes. The leader addressed his group, "Usku ibic agol, vi sheb'viinir at dab'ika, tsikador sheb'viinir at yustapir (Tie up this meat, we ride back to camp and prepare to ride to river. Rough translation.)"
    The men nodded and immediately got to work tying up the beast. Then, taking their sickle swords, they hooked special parts in their saddles and pulled themselves up. The leader was handed his arrow and sheathed it, and also drawing his sword, led them back to the long wood and hide houses they lived in. Within the town were hundreds of animals, almost two mounts per person, and in the center of town was the largest house, for group meetings, communal diners, and the main home of the chief, the A'lore. After the food was prepared, the A'lore (The man on the mooselike beast) invited all people of the town into his home for their meal. It was here that he announced the next migration, to the river in the east. Immediately following the feast of cooked tiger, the whole town prepared for the migration. All the houses, called karyai, were disassembled into small transportable pieces in but an hour, and everyone, including women and children mounted their animals. The creatures ranged from typical horses, to elk, reindeer, and other large deer creatures, all the way down to smaller deer for the smallest adults and children. Of all mounts, the A'lore's was the most magnificent, with the biggest antlers and the strongest legs. As the marched, it can be noted that they all carried a bow, a sickle sword or hooked bardiche axe, and either a double edged spear (one side with a sword blade for slash and stab, the other with a sickle shap for hook and slash) or a longer heavier two handed sword, with almost staff length grip. The crowd was not quiet as the traveled, and when they could, hunted as they migrated. Conversation between riders rang out, as they steadily made their way east.

As the moon slowly rose from behind the mountains, the men of the Incánus tribe were returning from their hunt, preparing for the winter festival and the cold days to come.

Despite living on an island, they had followed the animals there over the land bridge, and were now stuck there forever. It was a good thing, as they would no longer be forced to be nomads, finally able to settle down as a tribe.

Sahkonteic, the leader of the hunters and son of Akecheta, the chief, proudly presented the largest game to the rest of the tribe at the center of camp. One this big hadn't been seen for many moons. Its presence must be a sign from the gods. From the back of the crowd, a chant emerged, until every tribal member was empowered, chanting, "Sahkonteic, Sahkonteic," over and over. The warm glow of the fire lit up Sahkonteic's face as he smiled to himself, knowing that he had done his family proud.

Chief Akecheta stepped forward, and slowly, the chant died down. He raised his arms toward his son, and then the crowd, a proud glint in his eye. "Let us feast!" he cried, raising a fist into the air. The rest of the tribe returned the gesture and yelled triumphantly. The winter festival had begun...

Quartum Diem Festum Solstitium, Anno Conditae Familia 235

It was four days since the hunt had concluded, and still the feasting on [i[]Bayrne[/i] continued.  The families continued to hold games in the mornings, feast in the afternoon, and gather, dance, and exchange stories with the elders around the great fires in the evenings. 

This year, the celebration was extra lively, as a new substance christened by it's discoverers, House Sormar, as "cervisia."  Needless to say this was a very interesting drink, which interested many of the houses and their elders, but none more particularly than house Bellar, which was typical.  They had not stopped squabbling amongst themselves about how to distribute the beer until they had exhausted themselves to the point of exhaustion. 

Marius observed all this, and noted it all, as the night drew near, he blew the great horn of Lar.  The resulting blaring of the horn caused the festivities to momentarily marvel at the echoing of the horn across the lake, before after a short time the children returned to playing, and the Elders of the houses withdrew from their families and headed to Bayrne's highest hill, and the Dominus' house for a meeting...